Merry nodded, tears streaming from eyes overripe with horror. Her hand went to her neck, clutching the locket she always wore. With an anguished scream, she yanked it, breaking the gold chain, and passed the piece of jewelry to Kinley. Her fingers quivered as she pried open the locket and sucked in a sharp breath. The crinkled photograph from the case file was a replica of the one inside Merry’s locket. The fifth victim. The teenage daughter of two scientists who relocated with their company from Mumbai. She went missing two weeks after the family moved to Texas. Her charred remains were recovered nine months later.
“There was no car accident. My father didn’t fall in love with a young woman on a business trip. She was a child!” Merry’s voice broke, and Kinley wrapped her arms around her. They clung to each other, united by something so dark, she couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. Merry’s chest heaved as she fought to draw in a breath.
“Lambert,” she barked, eyeballing Gus. “Get an EMT here. She’s going into shock.”
Gus lifted his phone and turned, speaking quietly into the device. Or maybe she just couldn’t hear his words over Merry’s cries and the ringing in her ears. “Is there anyone else in your family aside from you and your father?” She tried to meet the dispatcher’s eyes, but they were downcast, and she refused to look up.
“Sorry. So…” Merry’s voice cracked, and her fingers bit into Kinley’s forearms. Only when the EMTs arrived and began checking her vitals did she reluctantly let go. Kinley moved out of the way of a paramedic and found Gus and Agent Bryce waiting outside.
“Conference room,” Gus suggested, lifting his chin toward the room down the hall. They walked silently through the corridor, the only sound the scuff of shoes against the linoleum.
They entered the room, shutting the door behind them. Merry’s locket was heavy in her hand, weighed down by lies and secrets. “Merry’s father, Maxwell Calder, gave her this locket. Said her mother died in a car accident when she was very young.”
“What do we know about the fifth victim?” Gus asked.
“Sana Das. Transplant from Mumbai. Two weeks after relocating, she disappeared. At sixteen, she was the oldest victim. He killed most of the girls after two or three months, but she was held for approximately nine months.”
“And maybe now we know why.” Gus rolled his shoulders with force.
“The fifth victim became pregnant. For whatever reason, the baby was kept alive and ended up with Maxwell Calder.” Merry might have all the answers without knowing it—if the truth didn’t kill her first.
“So, it’s very likely that Calder is responsible for murdering those girls.” A frown line ran down the center of Agent Bryce’s forehead.
“It wasn’t him. Maybe he was involved somehow. But he didn’t rape and torture those children.” The stained mattress. The stench of urine and blood, poorly masked by limestone. The steel chain staked into the dirt floor. Raw, festering boils from the manacle around her ankle. She could recall everything about those two months with agonizing detail. How had she survived it?
“How do you know?” Agent Bryce’s tone was so dismissive, Kinley’s body tensed and she gripped the edge of the table.
“I was there.” She pushed away from the table and stalked out, leaving the door vibrating with the aftershocks of her anger.
Merry’s connection to the killer. An innocent woman killed because she shared a likeness to Kinley. The possible involvement of a former FBI legend. All of the shit she’d been drowning in for the past weeks slammed into her chest. She tried to gulp down some of the stale barrack’s air, but it wasn’t enough. Not when she could hardly get oxygen past her tight throat. She rushed down the halls and burst from the building. Once she was far enough away from the front door, she slumped against the brick exterior and planted her hands on her knees. She consciously attempted to slow her breathing and get her heartrate under control. When the ground stopped rocking beneath her feet, she crossed the lot to her car. Hopefully, she’d make it home before Easton got back. She unlocked the doors and climbed into the driver’s seat. The steering wheel was ice beneath the pads of her fingers, and late October felt more like January.
Shoot. She should’ve told Gus she was headed back to Easton’s place, and she used the voice to text to send him a quick update. He’d understand. Not long ago, he’d been sucked into his own version of hell.
As she drove, Merry’s shattered expression stuck in her mind. Was she really the daughter of the fifth victim? They’d be able to find out soon enough if Merry was willing to have a DNA test to verify paternity. A blur of green caught her eye in the rearview mirror. One of those tiny trucks was right on her bumper. What an asshole. She was about to make a rude gesture when unease spread through her. There was something familiar about the driver that made her cold all over.
The truck’s tires squealed as it rammed into the side of her car at full speed, and the fear accompanied the cold. Stupid decisions led to people getting hurt, and leaving Easton’s house, leaving the barracks alone, hadn’t been her brightest idea. She picked up her phone, fingers poised over Easton’s number, when the truck careened into her again. The device flew from her hands and thudded to the car floor. Her back tires spun out, and she cursed. Her heart was thrashing, and black spots blurred her vision. The huge oak tree seemed to come out of nowhere. The windshield splintered. Pain reverberated up her right ankle. The airbags deployed with a whoosh, blasting her in the solar plexus. The car careened down an embankment, rolling once. Tree bark flashed in her line of vision right before her temple struck the side window. There was the sickening crunch of bone, then nothing.